


23

by unethicalcoffee



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unethicalcoffee/pseuds/unethicalcoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For love is selfish; the more ardent, the more selfish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	23

Laura’s little fist is all balled up in the collar of Carmilla’s shirt (red and black flannel which, incidentally, is Laura’s), trying no doubt to cling as hard as she can and managing only to produce the weak tug of a lost child. A watery film hoods her bright brown eyes, her lips are fuller in frowning, and her cheeks shine as though dusted with pale pink glitter. She’s just so lovely, so small, like all of Carmilla’s long forgotten notions of goodness and altruism rolled into a package with pinchable cheeks and flickering before her, ghostly yet clear as the room swims in and out of focus. Maybe it’s fucked up to find her so perfect this way, like the glassy constitution of Carmilla’s own heart, nothing in the world so delicate, so vulnerable. Maybe that’s why her lips move before her brain can even try, brushing Laura’s cautiously, their noses pressed together.

“It’s a little fucked up to find me attractive because of my tragic backstory, buttercup.”

Laura shakes her head in one heavy movement and pushes their mouths back together. Carmilla thinks she can feel the smaller girl’s teeth ensnare her bottom lip, but is unable to process fully what must be a sense of surprise.

“Not  _because_  of it, you doofus.”

The more or less comfortable silence that follows and the many languid kisses inbetween fool Carmilla into thinking that Laura will leave the issue at that. Somewhere in her stomach (or perhaps her liver) there is an unremitting burning, churning. Chained to rocks, flesh pecked apart, day after day she regenerates in physical form alone, her mind weathered by each encounter. Laura’s hands heave ponderously to her shoulders and her arms stretch fully, forcing some distance between them, though her head lolls forward, betraying her desire to continue as before.

“Before, I thought you were just moody and selfish, and I was pretty sure you were trying to eat me” – she giggles at that, a high half-breed between a hiccup and a laugh – “but once you opened up like that I realised I could trust you.”

“Telling you I’ve been luring girls for centuries made you trust me?”

“No,” Laura groans, rolling her eyes, “it was just that everything kind of… fell into place. Like, I could see you, in everything you’d said and done to me before, and after. Like you cared.”

Carmilla is still. She watches from afar as her limbs move at the mercy of a potent liquid, some of which remains in a long, clear bottle on the floor nearby. She wants Laura and she needs to keep her safe; she surrenders her desires only to reach back like the weakling she is, for what is she but a shadow in a sunshine day?

When Laura kisses her again she tastes like salt and shines like starlight and wraps Carmilla in her supernova arms, her own back thumping onto the floor, their faces crashing with an equal lack of grace, asteroids, a planet formed.

“You’re drunk,” Carmilla slurs. She laughs and she cries, she sees the universe now but she’s still half buried in blood, rinsing her tongue in salt to lose the taste of dirt, of metal.

“I love you,” says Laura.

For love is selfish; the more ardent, the more selfish.


End file.
